


For the Cause

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bestiality, Coercion, Creepy Voldemort, Dubious Consent, F/M, Infidelity, Rape/Non-con Elements, Strong Narcissa, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort forces Narcissa to prove her loyalty to the cause</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Cause

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dallas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dallas/gifts).



> First fic for my Holiday Gift Fic thing. Written for Dallirious who wanted this Narcissa/Werewolf Greyback.

Bellatrix is brushing her hair like she’s a child. Narcissa has bitten the inside of her cheek raw in order to prevent herself from speaking up to stop her sister. If there is anything she’s learned in the months since Lucius was sent to Azkaban, it’s that her sister has the power. For now. Her home is no longer hers. It’s the lair of the Dark Lord, who seems to have no qualms about taking over her residence while her husband suffers in prison for his misplaced loyalty to the creature who controls them all as if they’re merely puppets on his strings.

“You look beautiful, darling sister,” Bellatrix coos, catching Narcissa’s gaze in the mirror and smiling. The insanity that used to be hidden is no longer concealed; not after years with only dementors for company. Bellatrix drags scarlet fingernails down her face, her smile growing. “Of course, you’ve always been the beautiful one, haven’t you, Cissy? The traitor got the brains, I got the strength, and you got the looks.”

“You do all of us a disservice, dear sister. You and I were fortunate enough to receive all three gifts,” she says, playing her part because it’s expected. Besides, she has to protect her son at any cost, even if it requires tolerating Bellatrix’s mood swings.

Bellatrix laughs, looking delighted by Narcissa’s statement, and she kisses the top of Narcissa’s head. “Your husband would benefit from your guidance, darling sister. When our Lord releases him from that prison, it will be best for both of you if you step up and lead him. He lacks our strength.”

Narcissa fails to react to what her sister’s just said. Instead, she purses her lips and reaches up to stroke the dress robes she’s been given to wear this evening. “Are you accompanying us tonight, Bella?”

“Alas, I have other duties that require my attention.” Bellatrix squeezes Narcissa’s shoulder hard, causing her to look up to meet her gaze in the mirror. Her sister looks as concerned as she ever can be when it involves someone other than her Dark Lord, her husband, or herself. It’s a look that sends an involuntary chill down Narcissa’s spine. “Be strong, darling sister. Remember your son and do what is required so that you may return to him.”

The warning does not bode well, but it isn’t entirely unexpected. Since the Dark Lord issued the invitation that demanded her to accompany him this evening, she’s suspected that there is some game or another afoot. Fortunately, she _is_ strong and clever, so she will do whatever is necessary to protect her family. With Bellatrix gripping her shoulder tight enough to bruise, a nostalgic burst of affection causing a rare moment of concern, she knows her thoughts of being forced to curse an enemy might have been incorrect.

Before she can ask any questions, Bellatrix winces and looks at the mark on her forearm. “He is ready for you. Do not keep him waiting.”

Narcissa watches her sister leave the room then she studies herself in the mirror. Her hair has been brushed and twisted into an elegant chignon, a few loose tendrils brushing against her neck and shoulders. The formal dress robes she’s been given are a deep sapphire that brings out the color of her eyes, the low cut bodice displaying her cleavage in a provocative manner. Surely the Dark Lord is not intending to demand physical gratification from her, regardless of how he’s orchestrated her appearance. No, he doesn’t lower himself to indulge in such carnal desires, and she knows he considers such behavior a weakness. Still, she has to count slowly to calm her nerves before she’s able to stand and project an appropriate air of disinterest before joining him.

“Good evening, m’lord,” she says respectfully, bowing her head slightly in deference. Unlike his disciples, she is not kneeling to beg for his approval.

“Narcissa, you look lovely.” He hisses her name in the way that makes her flesh crawl, but she is a Black so she never shows her true feelings. “Come along. I do not wish for us to be late.”

“Of course, m’lord.” Narcissa allows a dreamy smile to cross her lips, allowing him to continue to believe her to be empty headed and useless as anything but a breeding mare to continue the Pureblood lineage. She takes his arm and soon feels the sensation of apparation sweep through her body.

They arrive in a room lit with candles that cast shadows on the wall. There are few furnishings, a broken chair, a table, a bed with a thin mattress, another chair with faded burgundy fabric. She quickly scans the room and makes note of everything before looking at him with wide eyes.

“This evening, you are going to prove your family’s loyalty to me, lovely Narcissa,” the Dark Lord says, the hissing of her name no longer the only thing making her skin crawl. “You see, I am negotiating with someone who demands a gift before pledging allegiance to me and our cause. You, my dear, _are_ that gift.”

It’s worse than she expects. She forces her to fret with the sleeves of her robes to keep herself from reaching for her wand. “What do you mean, my lord? My husband…”

“Your husband is a disgrace. He rots in prison because he is a disappointment as a wizard. He has no say in this matter.” The Dark Lord smiles, the sight chilling and frightening despite her efforts to remain strong. “If you are so devoted to him that you cannot do as I ask, I will send for your son, instead. He is as disappointing as his father, so it’ll be no great loss if he fails to survive the evening.”

The vision of his face surrounded by green light before exploding allows her to calm down before she does something foolish. “Draco is resting, my lord. Your task has kept him very busy during his term at Hogwarts. I do not wish to have him disturbed. I will do as you ask, of course, because we are merely your servants doing our part to defeat the filth infesting our world.”

“Very good.” The Dark Lord is pleased and pats her head as if she’s a pet kneazle. One day, she will see him dead. She vows that to herself as she stands there waiting to be subjected to whatever cruelty he has devised as a means of displaying his power over her and her family. The grand puppet master smiling as he directs them all in his ridiculous scheme to get revenge against a child.

“What will you have me do tonight, my lord?” She looks around the room again, not seeing anyone hiding anywhere waiting to make themselves known.

“You need only survive, lovely Narcissa.” The Dark Lord chuckles as he walks to the door near the wardrobe with the broken foot. “I will remain, of course, to ensure that you do so. It will also allow me an entertaining memory to share with your husband when he returns to us.”

Survive? It’s just sex. While she hates him for forcing her to betray her vows to her husband, whom she loves dearly even if he’s the reason they’re in this mess currently, she isn’t afraid of allowing some man to use her body if it protects her son. When he opens the door, she realizes just how wrong she’s been.

“Your gift, Greyback. I hope you’ll find it to your liking,” the Dark Lord says, watching as a large beast enters the room. “Your terms have been met. You will work for me now.” He looks at Narcissa and nods at her. “Do not worry, lovely Narcissa. He will not bite to turn. Just remember this is for our cause. He and his pack will give us the support we need to move forward with our plans.”

“For the cause,” she repeats dully, watching as the beast stalks her. There’s drool dripping from his sharp teeth, his snout sniffing the air as he eyes her as if she’s his prey. For a moment, she wants to laugh because she realizes she _is_ prey. Her heart is racing, and she takes a step back, not wanting him any closer. He smells terrible, like unwashed fur and body odor. It’s so strong that she gags. He snaps his teeth at her, and she looks up to see the Dark Lord sitting in the chair, watching the proceedings with a bored look on his face.

When the werewolf---Greyback, the Dark Lord had called him---steps closer, she feels a rush of adrenalin and tries to run towards the door. It’s instinct, even as she tells herself to stop because there is no way she’s subjecting her beautiful son to this torment. The wolf is on her before she makes it three steps. The wooden floor is hard beneath her knees, splinters digging through the expensive fabric of her robes. There is drool dripping on her neck, sliding down her skin to pool around her breasts. Greyback snarls, teeth ripping the material off her, scraping against her skin as it’s bared, sharp enough to draw blood.

He’s so heavy, the fur of his underbelly scraping against her back, more abrasive than Lucius when he’s not shaved for a few days. She doesn’t have to see it to know her skin is turning pink from the rubbing, and she tries to crawl away when he shifts his weight, her robe tugged off her shoulders as she moves. When he growls, she rolls over, staring up at him as she scrambles backwards along the floor. Her breasts are bare now, her back offered no protection from the coarse wood she’s sliding against. Greyback is huge, easily the biggest creature she’s ever seen up close, and he bites at her breast as his claws rip the remainder of her robes off her waist. The knickers she’s wearing are torn away with two swipes of his claws, leaving her naked beneath him.

The room is cold, the chill from December blowing through the walls where the wood isn’t secure, and she shivers from the cold and not because she’s scared. She can’t be scared because fear is a powerful weakness. She remembers that one of her cousin’s best friends was a werewolf. She knows the stories, remembers the man teaching her son not many years ago, and she knows Sirius wouldn’t have befriended a monster no matter how much of a traitor he was to his blood kin. This creature _is_ a monster, though. She can tell from the way he’s playing with her, more in control in wolf form than the books claim, and she’s worried that this is merely an easy way for the Dark Lord to kill her without facing repercussions for his actions from those not as loyal as her sister.

Teeth marks are now imbedded in her left breast. She blinks down at them when he raises his head and growls. Her nipple is bitten, blood dripping from it, and she’s got scratches all over her torso from where he’s sliced her robes off of her. Drool is mixing with the blood, wet and sticky as it falls down on her body. The werewolf is hard, she realizes, feeling his large cock rub against her leg. It’s huge, bigger than any man’s, swollen yet smooth with liquid spilling from the head and dragging across her skin. He’s growling more, no longer so in control of himself, more base needs taking over, and she scrambles backwards across the floor, ignoring the pain from splinters digging into her skin because it’s nothing compared to what awaits her.

Long fingers suddenly card through her hair, the pins lost somewhere during her escape attempts, the tendrils falling around her face and down her back. She looks up to see red eyes staring at her intently, a ghost of a smile on his disfigured face. Teeth bite into her breast and she gasps, pushing down on the furry creature covering her body. “Roll over, lovely Narcissa,” the Dark Lord hisses. “He wants to mate with you. Be a good gift for our new ally. Present yourself to him.”

If Potter doesn’t kill him, she will.

That’s what she needs to get through this. That hatred and anger is going to give her strength. It’s a reminder of what’s at stake, and she’s able to get control somewhat amidst the fear and horror at what’s happening to her. Teeth are ripping her breasts, claws slashing her hips, cock rubbing against her as he lets his lust control him. He’s an animal rutting against her, and she’s a Black. She can survive this. She _will_ survive this. She tilts her head up and tightens her lips, pushing at his fur as she rolls over. She pulls herself to her knees, presenting herself as the Dark Lord called it.

Greyback is on top of her immediately. His furry bulk forcing the breath out of her, his cock rubbing against the cleft between her cheeks. Drool is covering her back, thick gobs sliding down her neck and collarbone. He’s snarling and growling, hips snapping, but he’s not inside her where he wants to be. The Dark Lord chuckles. “Help him, lovely girl. Guide him into you.”

Narcissa bites the inside of her cheek where it’s already raw but obeys. She reaches behind her, cheek pressed against the tattered remnants of her robes, and she guides his cock into her. He’s thick enough that she can’t wrap her fingers completely around him and as long as her forearm, and he doesn’t care that she’s dry and not aroused. He thrusts into her completely, ripping her and making her bleed from the ferocity of his thrusts. She’s sliding across the floor as he moves, his hips snapping back and forth faster than she can believe, her body protesting his presence as she bites her lip to keep from screaming. Only the knowledge that she is being watched keeps her from crying out in pain.

Greyback is ruthless. Scratching her with sharp claws, biting at her just enough to hurt, fur continuing to irritate her skin, his cock spreading her so wide that she’s not sure she’ll ever recover, but she knows she will. She’s had a baby, after all, and he isn’t that large even if it feels that way. She hears the Dark Lord make a pleased noise when she starts to feel something expanding inside her. Greyback pulls at her hair, snapping his hips even faster now, going so deep she is screaming inside her head to distract herself from the pain. It’s continuing to swell, stretching her so wide, then he’s howling as she feels wet warmth spurting inside her.

“He really does enjoy his gift,” the Dark Lord observes casually, as if he’s merely discussing the possibility of snow instead of her rape by a dark creature for his amusement. “Relax, lovely girl. He’ll be knotted inside you for a bit. Then he’ll have you again and again. You’re his until dawn, after all. I’m certain your husband will be most proud of you for showing your loyalty to the cause.”

Narcissa closes her eyes and slowly begins to think about astronomy, listing each name that her father had drilled into her head as a child. It allows her a mental escape from what is happening to her body, though she can still feel the sticky drool dripping down her neck and the feel of sharp claws digging into her sides. Greyback is completely covering her with his large shape, fur scratching her back as he ruts and tugs his knot in such a way that not even the stars can distract her from the pain. She refuses to gift the Dark Lord with the sound of her pain or the tears of her humiliation, so she stays strong. _Carina, Cassiopeia, Centaurus…_

She’ll survive this, and she _will_ see their lord dead one day.

She _is_ a Black, after all. 

End


End file.
